What Dean Winchester Needed Most
by jaroberts
Summary: Set after Season 11 Finale, what I imagine Season 12 beginning like, with added Destiel. Dean is shocked to say the least when his mother turns up after God and Amara's reconciliation. And what happened to Sam? Is Cas gonna find his way home again?
1. Chapter 1

**What Dean Winchester Needed Most**

Set after Season 11 Finale, what I imagine Season 12 beginning like, with added Destiel. Dean is shocked to say the least when his mother turns up after God and Amara's reconciliation. And what happened to Sam? Is Cas gonna find his way home again?

…

Chapter 1

Dean had taken part in a few breath-taking reunions once or twice in his lifetime, but nothing remotely compared to this. Dean was the first to say life wasn't fair for him and his brother. Him and Sam never really had much except each other, and they had to fight tooth and nail to keep what they had. Fate was a cruel bitch. Literally.

They had lost so much, sometimes Dean found it nearly impossible to get out of bed in the morning. And after losing Cas to the Leviathans and then Bobby shortly after, Dean had shut down emotionally. He had lost all hope that he could keep his patchwork family together, because like he told Amara, when everything went to crap, all you had was family. They were the only ones that stuck by your side at the end of the day. And it was a fact of Dean Winchester's life that everybody left him eventually, so he didn't really see the point anymore. He had Sam and Cas for now, but he felt like he was waiting for the inevitable time when he just couldn't take it anymore.

Even the Empty sounded better than being left alone.

But somehow he always kept fighting, he never gave up.

And now…

"Mom?" Dean whispered, his voice throaty and hoarse, feeling a burning behind his eyes and a lump forming in his throat.

Mary Winchester stood there in the white gown she wore the night she was burned on the ceiling in Sammy's nursery. She just stared wide-eyed and terrified at her son, not daring to speak. And in that instant, Dean realized she had no idea who he was.

Dean felt all the air leave his lungs and like his legs might give out under him. Clearing his throat and blinking a couple times as his eyes burned and heart began to speed up, he spoke. "Mom…" his voice sounded nothing like what he thought he usually sounded like. He sounded like a broken man, like if this was a dream and he woke up, he would wished he hadn't. In that instant, he closed his eyes tight around the moisture there and wished with all his heart that this wasn't a Djinn-created reality. "Mom…it's me. Dean… your son," he breathed out heavily, his heart pounding in his chest.

Mary didn't move, her lips moved wordlessly, her brows furrowing and unfurrowing in confusion. "What?" she whispered, her tone disbelieving.

Dean laughed, a breathy watery sound to his own ears, and was too caught up to even care that tears were streaming down his face. "Yeah mom… it's me," he sent her a watery smile, this one of joy. "I'm all grown up," and his voice broke and his lower lip trembled as he watched his mother's face transform. She was awestruck. Dean didn't even hesitate as he moved forward, and before he knew it, his arms were around the one thing he needed most.

"Dean," she whispered as her arms wrapped around his waist, and Dean gripped her tighter, too relieved and desperate to care, because the one person he had needed all his life was in his arms. His mom was here.

Dean sobbed into her shoulder as she kneaded his back, because a mother knew, sometimes their child just needed to be held.

And Dean didn't let go for fear that if he did, she might just up and vanish again.

"Shhh," Mary whispered in her son's ear as he shook and sobbed and let out thirty-five years of pain and suffering. "I'm here my little angel. I'm not going anywhere," she confessed and laid a gentle kiss on her son's bent head as he cried his heart out.

Dean chuckled, halfway between a sob and whimper. "Not an angel mom… I could introduce you to one though… he's great… my best friend actually." Dean's gaze rose and his eyes locked with hers, and Dean couldn't help it that a new wave of tears fell from his eyes, and his smile was one of pain and sadness and joy all at the same time. He just needed his mom.

And he had Amara to thank for it all.

Mary Winchester chuckled and Dean felt a wave of affection burst with warmth in his chest and it only felt natural to embrace what he had been missing all these years.

As she held her son, petting his hair and rubbing soothing circles on his back, she spoke low in his ear. "I always told you angels were watching over you my baby."

Dean hugged her tighter and buried his face in his mother's neck, inhaling her scent, committing it to memory. He had forgotten what his mom had smelled like. Juniper berries and cinnamon.

"I love you mom…" he confessed in a whisper as he pulled her closer in his arms. "I'll never leave you."


	2. Chapter 2

**What Dean Winchester Needed Most**

Set after Season 11 Finale, what I imagine Season 12 beginning like, with added Destiel. Dean is shocked to say the least when his mother turns up after God and Amara's reconciliation. And what happened to Sam? Is Cas gonna find his way home again?

…

Chapter 2

After hitchhiking for hours, his mother trailing behind, they had found a diner with decent cell reception, and finally they were back at the Bunker. Home. It was lucky really, wherever Amara had sent them was only a few hours from Lebanon.

Thank God...uh…Amara for that.

The long trek down the highway in the dead of night and after the over-emotional chick flick moment, Dean was utterly exhausted. He had his quota on overly stressful days. Years. Decades even.

What he needed right at the moment was a long, hot, relaxing shower.

The loud creaking of the Bunker door was like music to his ears. Dean creeped down the stairs, signaling his mother to follow, something he was uncharacteristically excited about. But when he reached the last step, Dean was stopped short, staring in shock.

His brother's hulking form was kneeling on the steps leading up to the war room's table. But Sam wasn't alone, and it wasn't Cas he saw laying on the floor.

It was a woman, and Dean felt simultaneous relief and guilt pulse through his veins. He didn't want anyone hurt, but he was more relieved than even he realized that it wasn't Cas lying on the floor.

Flashbacks to the last time he left Cas lying in his own blood barreled into his thoughts, after beating him nearly to death, before removing the Mark and letting the Darkness out and nearly letting her destroy the _universe_.

He realized in that moment that Cas wasn't just his family anymore. He no longer thought of Cas as a brother. The angel had become so much more to Dean, and it took simply _imagining_ him lying dead on the floor to realize it.

Maybe Amara hadn't just brought his mother back because he needed her.

Maybe she was just the catalyst. Seeing his mother again brought out a multitude of feelings Dean never thought possible. He felt that it was almost as if she had never even left him, that she was simply snatched from a different time, held in a stasis, only to come back to him in a way he would never expect.

He realized in that moment that _imagining_ Cas was gone, for good this time, hurt just as much as _seeing_ his mother burn pinned to the ceiling.

It felt as if a part of him had been prepared to die with the angel.

Dean sighed, closing his eyes and taking careful breaths around the sudden lumps in his throat, feeling relief even as pressure built up behind his eyes.

As Dean inched closer, the unmistakable cloying copper-like scent assaulted his nostrils, crimson rivulets trickling slowly down from the dark stain on the girl's abdomen to collect in a pool around her on the hardwood, staining it dark.

Dean knew without it needing to be confirmed that the girl had been shot.

Dean's heart sped up as he saw Sam move, raising his hands. They were covered in blood, shaking like a leaf, in shock. The woman lying on the floor wasn't breathing, her blond hair haphazard against the floor and her dark eyes staring blankly ahead, unseeing. Dean felt relief not seeing the untamed, messy mop of dark hair and bright blue eyes gazing up at him, as if saying I will always forgive you Dean.

And it was scary, because now Dean was even imagining how broken he would have been if he had gone through with it and murdered Cas under the influence of the Mark.

Dean closed his eyes again, feeling tears form there, and he breathed deep before speaking, steeling his resolve. "Sammy…" he whispered. "Are you alright?"

The younger hunter whipped his head around so fast Dean swore he could hear Sam's nick snap, and his brother's eyes were wide, like he was seeing a ghost. "Dean?" Sam whispered, his mouth gaping.

Dean smiled nervously, a breathy laugh escaping his chest. He reached out a hand to steady himself, hand closing over his little brother's broad shoulder. "Yeah, it's me Sammy."

Sam frowned, eyes still wide, his chest expanding and contracting rapidly. "But you were…I thought you were dead." His voice was a shaky whisper, disbelief warring with what was before his eyes. Dean could practically feel the abject worry coming off of Sam in waves, and Dean was at once relieved things had worked out the way they did. Sam would not have handled Dean's death very well this time. If their history proved anything, it was that they needed each other. They were all they had.

Dean chuckled shakily. "Nope. Turns out… Amara just needed her brother back. She didn't wanna be alone."

It was a loaded statement and Sam could hear it's subtext loud and clear, whether Dean meant it intentionally or not. Sam could see the subtle way his brother's eyes averted from his own gaze, as if almost ashamed to admit it. And suddenly, Sam's confused gaze shifted and the fog cleared from his sight, understanding dawning on him.

Amara and Dean did indeed share a bond. They were both the same, hurt and abandoned, lonely, kindred spirits almost. Both of them used rage to mask their true feelings. Anger was easy. Admitting vulnerability and letting go of all the hate and revenge, not so much.

Dean smiled, endorphins pumping through his blood. He was so happy it almost seemed irrational even to him. He couldn't begin to describe it. It was a new feeling for him. "She said I gave her what she needed most. And she wanted to do the same for me in return," Dean confessed, and then he slowly turned and walked back to the stairwell, feeling a spring in his step and a rush of adrenaline pumping through his blood making him literally shake with excitement.

This reunion was long overdue.

"And what was that?" came a deep, grizzly voice, one Dean hadn't heard in at least ten years, and once again, for the second time in a few hours felt as if the floor might disappear beneath his feet.

Turning around, Sam drew his gun and stood shoulder to shoulder with Dean as they faced the intruder. But Sam was momentarily flabbergasted, mouth opening and closing wordlessly in a rendition of a fish, while Dean's eyes were shut tight, the same hope from earlier rushing through his blood with anticipation.

It was another great thing, it was almost too good to be true. But Dean wanted it all the same.

And like Fate dropping a piano on them, it happened whether they wanted it to or not.

"John?" whispered Mary, as she stepped around from the stairs, still in her nightgown.

Dean felt his heart stop and restart all at once at the blossoming feeling in his chest, that things were all going to be okay.

They had to be or this was a dream. The best dream he'd ever have.

"Mary."

* * *

 **So I don't know about other people who write fanfiction, but I don't really care if this makes me sound totally bat-shit insane... but when I write these scenes between the characters, especially Dean and Castiel, I can actually picture what their facial expressions and reactions would be like in these situations. And I actually feel like I am Dean and Castiel, like kind of emulating them. It's like I can feel their soul (and grace) moving through my soul, like a divine connection. It's weird. And kind of scary actually. Just putting it out there. Feel free to tell me I'm certifiable.**

 **And on a side note, I have been writing a series for the last few years, with all original characters, and I have been planning on getting a publishing contract with it when I move to NYC next year. But honestly, Destiel is so... it's like one of the reasons I continue to get up in the morning to be honest. Where I'm going with this is that I was thinking maybe I could publish it here on and just change the characters' names to Dean and Cas. The plot is original, but it is inspired by Supernatural, or how I would've wanted it to go, focusing more on romance and Destiel.**

 **Send me some reviews if you like my writing and tell me if I should post this monster of a story. I swear it is an emotional rollercoaster, but I can tell you. Cas will be an angel and Dean will not be a Hunter. He will be a normal guy, and Cas was Dean's imaginary friend who is the angel that watched over Dean as a child and then was forced to leave. But he inevitably finds his way back to Dean. And bonus... they WILL end up together at the end of it. And regardless of what happens, family and love will be the central focus of the story.**


	3. Chapter 3

**What Dean Winchester Needed Most**

Set after Season 11 Finale, what I imagine Season 12 beginning like, with added Destiel. Dean is shocked to say the least when his mother turns up after God and Amara's reconciliation. And what happened to Sam? Is Cas gonna find his way home again?

…

Chapter 3

John Winchester stood before them, a pensive frown drawing his thick brows together, his deep dark eyes serious. He was clad in worn jeans, a t-shirt under a leather jacket, and a gun in his hand, the same clothes he had worn the last time Sam and Dean had seen their father.

When Yellow-Eyes had taken his soul to save Dean in the hospital after the accident.

Sam stared wide-eyed back and forth between his parents, in awe. Dean was frozen where he stood, wanting to move but Sam beat him to it, he rushed forward and hugged his dad, not even noticing his mother standing at the foot of the stairs smiling while she watched this long-overdue reunion of her family.

"I missed you dad," Sam confessed, his voice muffled in the dark leather collar, Dean and Mary watching fondly.

John smiled into his son's hair, gripping him tighter in embrace. "Missed you too Sammy," he ground out, voice hoarse and rough.

Sam sighed and pulled back from their embrace, bitch-face on, "It's Sam."

John turned around and without any hesitation swept his wife off her feet. She squeaked in surprise and then melted when John's lips crashed into hers.

Sam smiled, all gummy teeth and wide-eyed, face almost stuck in awe. "Wait… how are you guys here?"

John and Mary turned to look at their sons, smiling.

Dean couldn't help it. Seeing his parents together, their whole family together, it made him smile too. And not one of his patented fake smiles, full-on beaming, shit-eating grin, the kind that was all in the eyes, feeling all the muscles in his face straining. There was no other feeling like it in the world.

"Amara," Dean explained in one word, breathless and high on endorphins.

Sam frowned, as did Mary and John.

As Dean recounted the story, right from the beginning, meaning since their mom died, they realized how much they missed in their boys' lives. The mystery girl still laid on the floor, forgotten for the moment.

Before they could question or mutter an answer however, the bunker door came crashing open.

Years of hunter's instinct had Dean pulling his gun out and cocking it. Everyone stood silent and rooted to the spot as a familiar trench coated figure came moping through the door and down the stairs, a defeated, melancholic frown on his face.

Dean felt his heartstrings pull, an ache in his chest and the air leaving his lungs. Never had he seen someone look so alone. He was across the main room of the Bunker faster than he even realized. He never wanted to that look on the angel's face again.

His family was all home.

"Cas!" Dean huffed out between a laugh, grinning so wide his cheeks hurt.

The angel looked up and his eye widened, dejected, tear-stained. His face was dirty, like he got lost in a dust storm. His hair was a mess and his eyes were so blue and vulnerable.

"Dean?" came Cas' gravelly voice, breaking, barely above a whisper.

Dean smiled gently, his green eyes warm, feeling a lump in his throat. He felt like a girl right then. He was not going to cry. No chick flick moments. "Hey Cas," his voice was low and husky, breathless and relieved.

The angel's face crumbled and more tears gathered in his eyes making the blue swim and Dean had enough.

He rushed the angel, not caring about anything in that moment but having the angel wrapped up in his arms, safe. Dean could feel the trembling form in his arms, Cas' arms wrapped so tight around Dean's waist, Dean thought the angel never wanted to let Dean go. Dean felt an ache of tenderness for the angel burst through his chest and he shut his eyes tight to keep his own tears from falling, resting his cheek against Cas' messy dark hair. Basking in the moment, Dean's other hand came up and carded through Cas' hair, coming to rest protectively on the nape of his neck, protective.

The whole world went away for them, the hunter and his angel feeling like things were finally clicking into place.

Sam made his way over to his mom and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, both smiling and watching Dean and Cas bask in their reunion. Sam knew this was a long time coming. Those two have had this unrequited, uncommunicative mess of a relationship for the last seven years and it was time.

Mary was a little jarred. This must be the angel Dean had told her about. The one who had saved her boy from Hell. Call it mother's intuition, but she could see it in her son's eyes. She might have been gone for more than thirty years, and missed a lot of her sons' lives, but it was clear as day. Angels were watching over Dean.

Her grown, baby boy was in love.

John Winchester stood off to the side, frowning, not uttering a word, his mouth moving as if to say something but having enough respect to not interrupt his son and this stranger who seemed to mean so much to him.

"Dean?" John hedged. "Who is this?" He inched closer to them, hunter's instinct and general reservations keeping him open enough, but not really trusting this stranger.

Dean and Cas' reluctantly pulled away from each other, both smiling into each other's eyes, both silently communicating what they both knew. Something had changed between them.

Dean cleared his throat and turned to his dad, his eyes serious. "This is Cas dad. And he's my best friend." It wasn't a lie. Cas was his best friend, but Dean wasn't sure how his dad would take the news. Hell, it was new to him too. It's not every day you have an epiphany that you're in love with an angel.

John was about to push for more, but Dean felt a hand squeeze his arm. He whipped around to see Cas' eyes wide and almost terrified. Dean ultimately went into protective mode.

"What is it Cas?"

Cas' eyes darted around, until his eyes landed on the woman laying in a pool of blood on the floor.

"That woman blasted me out of here. Sam?" the angel looked around frantically until his eyes rested on the younger hunter, his face evening out with relief.

Sam smiled. "Hey Cas."

Cas let out a deep breath. "Sam… who was she?"

"She said her name was Toni Bevell, British Men of Letters. She wanted me and Dean."

Dean frowned. "Wanted us as in…" Dean smirked seductively, waving his hands around, insinuating…

Sam scowled, rolling his eyes. "Dean… reality… porn, remember? She said we were in over our heads with the archangels, Leviathans, the Darkness. She said they had kept a close eye on us and that we did more harm than good as hunters."

Dean growled angrily. "That's rich. If they were watching us through all that, then why couldn't those limey mooks have helped us? They can cram it up their asses sideways and dry with their tea and crackers."

"Dean!" Mary scolded, eyes wide and fierce.

Dean blushed and lowered his eyes, fighting a smile. "Sorry mom."

"Men of Letters?" John's eyes narrowed.

"Dean." Cas' eyes were imploring. "We have a much greater threat out there as well. Lucifer is out there. We need to lock him back in the cage."

Dean sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. Family moment over. "I know Cas, but can we catch our breath? God and Amara are in the wind. Lucifer's out there and now we have the Men of Letters, part deux after us. Now I don't know about you, but I need a beer, a shower and a good night's rest."

Dean looked around at his family, his parents' confused faces, Sam's determined look, and back to Cas. Dean could see it. The angel was terrified. He only just got Dean back, and he wasn't ready to let him go again. Dean could relate. "Look… I don't know what the answer to all this is. You know how our lives go. One mess to clean up another. But we're all together now. We're the Winchesters. And nothing is stronger than us. We'll get through this. Together. No matter what." He brought his hands up and grasped Cas' shoulders firmly,

Cas nodded wordlessly, his features relaxing.

Dean sighed and turned to his dad. "You and mom can have Cas' room. Sam can you show them the way?"

Sam nodded, "Sure."

Mary sighed and followed him without complaint. But John stayed behind.

"Dean can I speak to you in private for a moment?" John's tone was firm, but his frown was one of confusion.

Dean knew this was coming sooner rather than later. John was an old-fashioned Marine and Dean knew the nature of this conversation. He felt almost like a little kid knowing he was about to get the lecture of a lifetime.

Dean's eyes bore into his dad in resignation, staring without blinking.  
"Cas can you give us a minute? I'll meet you in my room. Please?"

Cas' eyes darted back and forth between Dean and his father worriedly. "If you think it's best."

Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath, listening to the angel's footsteps fading as he walked away.

John grunted and cleared his throat. "Dean," Dean opened his eyes, expecting to see disappointment in his father's eyes. But what he saw threw him for a loop. John was smiling gently.

"Yeah dad?" Dean's voice sounded weak to his own ears. Being around his dad made him feel like he was a kid again. And not in a good way. His father was hard, a Marine through and through. Growing up he always wanted his father's approval, he idolized him, but at the same time he always felt inferior. John Winchester was a man's man. A tough, macho man.

John cleared his throat again, desperately trying to keep the smile off his face. That look made Dean want to wipe it off his dad's face. "Dean… I know I've been gone for… a long time, but you know you can tell me anything." He leveled Dean with a knowing look.

Dean's mouth dropped open, at a loss for words. "Dad…"

"Never thought you'd wanna grease the pole son," John drawled, a shit-eating grin on his face, smug but pride underneath it all.

Dean's face screwed up. "Ew, gross! Dad!"

John only chuckled and grinned, all gummy teeth. "Sorry, just bustin' your balls."

Dean smiled incredulously and laughed in a huff, feeling all the air leaving his lungs. Was it that obvious? Him and Cas? What was better was he had been worried for nothing. His dad was just making it more comfortable. The Winchester men were not really the type to go all Dr. Phil. Only Sammy.

John schooled his features to something more serious. "But seriously Dean, if you think I'd care if you were with someone with dangly bits, then you seriously don't know how much I love you. All of you. You, Sammy, your mom, even your… 'trench coat guy'… we're all family. And we stick together." John smiled warmly at his eldest.

Dean swallowed the lump in his throat, feeling his eyes begin to burn. "Are you sure dad?" he whispered, waiting for his dad to tell him he wasn't okay with this.

A hand came to rest on Dean's shoulder, and Dean was pulled into a crushing bear hug, squeezing all the air out of his lungs. John chuckled again. "Of course I'm sure Dean. As long as you're happy." He squeezed tighter and rested his chin on his son's head. "He treat you right?"

Dean chuckled, hearing his own voice break at the end, feeling like he lost some manly points. "Yeah dad. He's an angel."

Cas was sitting on Dean's bed, his hands folded in his lap waiting for his hunter. He was worried. Dean had told him stories of his father. Humans used sexuality as a weapon instead of what it was meant for, a representation of the unconditional love from his Father. From what Dean had told him, John Winchester was set in his ways, and Dean was so… he idolized his dad, wanted to be like him. He wanted to _be_ him. Not that it mattered to Cas, but Dean had a pretty close-minded view of sexuality and himself. Sexuality was more fluid, it was all in the human mind to think that you had to be what others thought normal, when what's possible was natural. It was natural to be what you are, but society and those who matter most were the ones who shaped one's self worth, what they strived to be.

He was brought out of his thoughts when the door opened. Cas looked up wide-eyed and stood as Dean entered the room, an odd, lopsided smile on his face. Maybe he had miscalculated.

"Are you alright Dean?" Cas frowned, his arms coming up out of instinct, wanting desperately to hold Dean in his arms again.

Dean's eyes rose to meets his, green meeting blue, and Cas felt a wave of desire barrel through him. Dean smiled and crossed the room to Cas, grabbing his face between his hands. He stared into Cas' eyes, and the angel knew something had changed, for the better. Dean brought their bodies closer, wrapping an arm around the angel's waist, both of them flush from leg to shoulder. Cas could feel the heat emanating from Dean's body, the steady pounding of his heart against Cas' own chest. Dean stared for a moment longer, his eyes feverish and passionate, resting at last on the angel's full pink lips.

Cas leaned closer, anticipation making his blood pound and his legs weaken. He had never thought he could ever hope for this.

Dean smiled again, wolfish. "Don't ask stupid questions angel." And then Cas felt softness against his own lips, a muffled grunt turning to a satisfied moan, whether from him or Dean, he didn't know.

He didn't care.

This was everything.

Sweat cooling from their bodies, legs and arms wrapped around one another, Dean's head rested on Cas' chest, and the angel carded his fingers gently through thick, soft hair. Dean's arm was thrown carelessly across Cas' waist, and Cas' free arm was around Dean, cradling his neck and shoulder to his chest, protective.

"Cas?" mumbled Dean's voice tiredly, post-coital bliss making him exhausted and content.

"Yes Dean?" the angel replied, his own voice even more gargled and rough from all the moaning and grunting. The last hour had been the best in his entire long existence.

"Nothing… just happy," he mumbled, squeezing the angel to him, his own naked skin still hot to the touch, and loving the feeling of their legs tightening together.

Cas smiled, all teeth and gums, closing his eyes and leaving a kiss on Dean's sweaty hair, pulling him impossible closer. "Me too Dean."


End file.
